Rebirth and Redemption
by Mortissimo
Summary: MegaJay After the end. With the city dead, will old enmity survive, or may new alliances be forged?
1. Samsara

Disclaimer: They're Cloud 9's, not mine, though I'd like very much to rescue Mega from them after seeing that became of him.

Note: This is sort of a continuation of the Infinite Loop series, although it contains actual moving of the plot forward rather than a soliloquy and maybe a flashback. I'm making it its own thing. You don't have to read Infinite Loop to read this. Infinite Loop doesn't make much sense in its own context, whereas this hopefully does. Technically, it's an AU, since Mega is, you know, not dust. Jay's apparently been taking the happy pills. Spoilers for the last season. I might be mixed up about where everyone was at the time of the completely illogical meltdown.

The concept that I am waking up at all occupies most of my first few moments of consciousness. The fight with Ram's program was not an event I had any reason to have expected to survive. But here I am, I say to myself, and begin to wonder about the important concept of where 'here' must be. Not wanting to open my eyes, I delegate the responsibility of collecting data to my other senses.

My everything aches, from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toenails. There are minor flares of agony in my head and in my lungs, but the pain tends to fade into a giant, fuzzy mass. Beneath me, I feel a hard, slick surface, with nothing but my Techno uniform between myself and it. After a few more moments of this introspection, I realise that the ground is moving slightly, swaying from one side to the other in an apparently random pattern. There is a worn quilt covering me, the scratchy cotton escaping through various tears in the thin cloth. This is an old object, I muse, either long-loved or recently scavenged from a trash heap.

The quilt does not smell like trash by any stretch of the imagination. The warm cloth smells like mothballs and sweat and soap and the ghost of the perfume of an old lady, but not like trash. The uncomfortable lump of fabric my head lies on carries its own familiar scent, something warm and pleasant that I am unable to trace successfully. The air around me is an all too familiar combination of salt and water and fish, a smell I have always known but always hated. Half by instinct, I press my face into my uncomfortable pillow, where it's much more pleasant.

The low murmur of familiar voices is all around me, none of them exactly over me, but none of them too far away. There are a few I recognise easily, like Ebony's perpetually angry purr, and a few I haven't had the misfortune to commit to memory. I infer from the sound of Ebony's dulcet tones that wherever I am, I'm not in Heaven. Another sound adds to this impression, the sharp screech of a seagull. I'm no theologian, but I have always been convinced that there could never be any seagulls in Heaven. Beneath the voices of human and creature, there is a slow, rhythmic hushing that I find to be strangely comforting.

The inside of my mouth tastes like salt and copper and rust, faded but enough of a presence to be annoying.

Very, very reluctantly, I open my eyes a fraction of an inch and stare into a field of pale gray camoflauge. Slow as an approaching glacier, I inch a hand up to trace an aching fingertip over the warm teeth of a metal zipper. A bitter smile stretches my dry, broken lips painfully. Jay's jacket. The mysterious angel-smell, Jay's smell. It's a good thing I'm dead, or else I might choke to death on my own self-pity. I close my eyes again as a pair of black combat boots come striding into view, making far more noise than I am convinced is really necessary.

"Mega." Ah. If there's one voice that can sound like a heavenly choir even when my head feels like it's been beaten in with a hammer, it's Jay's. I think I'm going to be sick. "Mega, are you awake?" Bless his heart, I think he's actually concerned for me. For his sake, I push a strangled groan of assent past my parched throat. "Are you in pain?" Resisting the urge to roll dry, scratchy eyes that he can't see anyway, I ignore the protesting muscles in my neck and nod. "Where does it hurt?" His voice, warm and worried and definitely closer to my ear than it had previously been, startles the sarcasm right out of me.

"Everywhere," I sigh painfully, cracking my eyes open to get a close-up shot of his knee.

"Look at me," he orders gently but firmly, and I struggle to comply, pushing myself onto my back with a sound that I am ashamed to admit comes out something like a whimper. There is a black, tan, and blonde smudge hovering concernedly above me. "Can you see okay?"

"No," I whisper hoarsely, and squint as his expression changes sharply. Jay seems to be either horrified or nauseous. Smiling a little despite myself, I swallow dryly and elucidate. "My glasses?" The lovely blur moves away from me, searching somewhere outside my limited field of vision. I have to fight the urge not to back away as his hands dive dowards my face, appearing faster than he's probably moving. Then warm plastic settles across the bridge of my nose and my blindness is cured. I catch myself thinking of words like 'miracle' and 'angel', much to my chagrin.

"And now?" He asks, concern touching me like a stab wound with a branding iron. Yes, I think, I can see the colour and the warmth in your eyes now, I can see heartbreaking little lines etched into your face from too much care too young, I can see a sliver of the ivory of your teeth between the coral of your lips. I don't say any of this.

"Yes," I say instead, opting, as ever, for effeciency over poetry, "I can see now." The smile he gives me is warmer than any expression I had expected to see directed towards me. It stuns me into silence, and a little sting in my lips tells me that I'm half-smiling back at him. Jay's smile was one of the few Earthly things I was sure I would miss in the oblivion that I had always imagined would follow my death.

"Good." I shut my eyes, painful from the exertation of seeing, for only a minute, and feel a flare of warmth against my forehead. "You're still a little hot," he informs me gently, his hand moving away too soon. "Anything in particular hurt?" There's an uncomfortable burning in the pit of my stomach, but I know that feeling well enough after years of it that it doesn't concern me.

"My eyes. My head. My throat," I cough a little, hoping that might help matters. It doesn't. A hand rests on my shoulder, a soothing touch even if it isn't meant to be. I can't say that my pain goes away entirely, but I will admit to feeling a bit better.

"Do you need to rest?" There's a question I have a ready answer to. Now that I find myself fully awake and apparently alive, I couldn't possibly imagine returning again to the half-dreaming world.

"No." I manage to shake my head a little, scratching my cheek on the teeth of a zipper on Jay's jacket. To prove my strength of body and spirit, I force my eyes open and push myself up onto my elbows. Strong hands grab my elbow, my wrist, and help pull me into a sitting position. I lean back against a stack of milk crates and stare expectantly at Jay. "Tell me what happened."

"Well, I guess it was... after your fight with the program?" He looks askance at me, and I realise that he wonders if I have any memory of this. I nod. I remember the battle all too clearly. "Everything started shaking and going all to pieces. I ran into Slade and everybody coming from the hotel, and they told me what had happened. I asked if anybody had checked your pulse or anything. They said no. I didn't think a person could just die from something like fighting a computer inside his head, and I... couldn't leave you there to get blown up..."

"So you went back for me." My vision blurs again and my voice cracks. My eyes aren't dry anymore. Being in such a state has done away with my emotional defences, for the most part. I have to look away from Jay before I do something stupid like actually start crying.

"I went back for you," he affirms, quietly. "If they weren't one hundred percent positive you were dead, I wasn't about to leave you there, helpless, to get exploded like the rest of the city." I'm a bit chagrined by the use of the word 'helpless' in reference to me, but something else about what Jay said catches my attention.

"What do you mean, exploded like the rest of the city?" Under control again, I look at him. My surprise overrides the little catch in my breath.

"I mean exactly what I said."

"The City exploded. As in-" Raising my hands, I make a gesture that almost turns out mushroom-cloud shaped. Jay gets the message despite my clumsy communication.

"Yes." I can't help it, my jaw drops. I'm as stunned by this news as anybody, and my shock seems to confuse Jay.

"Why would the City explode?" It comes out as a growl, sounding far more fearful than it probably should have. That hadn't been part of the plan. No sense in ruling something that wasn't there anymore. Jay looks disappointed.

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that." The frown mars his face so that I almost am inclined to make something up just so I can give him some sort of an answer. I'm not that kind of person, however, and so I don't.

"Quite honestly, I have no idea." Logical processes in my brain begin to turn rusty gears, getting my ponderous-feeling brain back up to my usual speed. Very quickly, I find a gap in the equation of my personal reality. "Where is this place, then?" I already have my suspicions, but I'd prefer to hear it from Jay. I only hope I'm wrong.

"On a boat, in the middle of the ocean." He sounds about as enthused as I feel. There are times I hate always being right, and this is one of them. More questions line up inside my head, all vying for a position at the beginning of the queue.

"Where are we going?" It seems to be the most prudent question and, I would hope, the one with the most straightforward answer.

"I'm not sure." Again, the prospect of a journey without a destination seems to gall him. He looks pale, uncertain, and, now that I consider everything fully, probably a little bit seasick.

"Well, how long have I been out?" This is the second most important question, and one whose answer ought to be far less esoteric.

"Three days, five hours. I couldn't tell you how many minutes." His precision makes me crack another grim smile, sparking another little agony of protest from my dry lips. He smiles in response, and it becomes clear now that he had been making a joke. "Seriously, though. About three days." I nod slowly, absorbing this information.

"Who else is on the boat?" I'd like to know what allies I might have around, though, knowing what kind of company Jay tends to keep, I probably don't have any. I remember the voice, and cringe. "Besides Ebony."

"The Mallrats. Some friends from Liberty. Ram." He laughs a little, and I suppose he must have caught something of a sickened expression crossing my face. If I didn't already feel so unpleasant, I might be inspired by a bit of mortal dread.

"Why am I still alive?" The question is half-sarcastic and half-serious. It's like the saying goes, why do I need enemies when I have friends like that? After three days of me lying unconscious, I'd have thought someone would have tried to kill me. I know I would have done.

"Because I wasn't about to let anything happen to you, not after what I went through to get you out of the City." Although he puts some effort towards sounding cavalier, and succeeds to a certain degree, I can nevertheless pick up a tightness in his throat that hadn't been there before. I can't tell whether it's the strain of duty or of care, but it gives me hope. Myself, I turn, press the side of my face against the milk cartons behind me, and focus on my breathing, in and out, in an attempt to calm the unusually riotious wave of emotion.

"My guardian angel," I murmur under my breath, mostly bitter sarcasm but with enough soft sincerity that I begin to doubt if my brain hadn't been somehow damaged in my battle with Ram's creation after all. I have always viewed Jay as an angel, in the deepest parts of my mind, though usually as an avenging soldier of heaven rather than a messenger of mercy. I've just never told him as much out loud. Jay looks at me strangely and I wonder if he hasn't misinterpreted my term of endearment. Or worse, if he's interpreted it correctly. He doesn't give me much time to wonder, and for that I am grateful.

"Think you can stand okay?" I consider this. Oddly enough, you know, I think I just might be able to. But, for once, I don't think I can manage alone. I keep my head down but hold my hands up, in a silent entreaty that shames me for no good reason. I know I'm not expected to be better instantly, and I know I can't heal myself and get on with my life, but I hate asking for help, and now, entire seconds later, I'm still sitting here looking like an idiot. I look up, and he's standing over me, looking at me strangely.

"Help me," I tell him through gritted teeth, managing the strength for a command but not the strength for a plea. At long last, he gets the message and he takes my hands and he pulls me to my feet. The world goes a little fuzzy and black-spotted around the edges and I think I might be clinging to him. And I think he might be clinging back, even though it's probably just White-Hat Jay shining through again.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" His breath is warm, and right next to my ear, and God help me, I look up. I'm a cliche, lost in his eyes. I think just this once I'll allow myself to assume it's me he's worried about, my own uselessness that makes him look so softly. If I move an inch I'll be kissing him, but it might as well be a mile. I can't do it. I'm sure right now we look like lovers exchanging vows of fidelity, but the old maxim is true, the truth does hurt, and the truth is that he hates me. I remember it now, though I have always known it. I've always looked at him with rose-coloured glasses, seeing in him those things I want to see. When he looks at me, I see reflected in him those things I myself feel, not the things that he feels. The kindness he shows me is only the kindness that he shows the world, even his enemies. I am his enemy. The reality of it is, and always has been, that he hates me, that the only kind thing he feels for me is pity.

I wish I was dead.


	2. Destination

Disclaimer: Do I need to write this for every chapter? Once again, not mine, Cloud 9's.

Note: Hopefully less OOC. Watched a few episodes to get the voices back in my head again.

It's not until much later that I learn we're going to the Island.

It's Lex who tells me, strangely enough. Slade hadn't seemed to know, and Jay either didn't know or wanted me kept in the dark. Nobody else would answer when I questioned them, all turning away and pretending not to have heard me. Twelve hours after returning from the dead, I was already considering throwing myself overboard. Speaking to Lex is, and always has been, something of a last resort for me, but any port in a storm. He's leaning on the railing when I see him, and I move quickly to stand and lean next to him before he can move away. Though he turns to look at me like I'm something he scraped off his shoe, he doesn't move, and he doesn't pretend I don't exist. It's a start.

"Good morning," I lie to him. I no longer feel like I'm liable to drop dead, but I still feel as thought I might be tempted to take matters into my own hands. He doesn't answer me, just stares off at the horizon with the kind of expression that usually means a person is thinking. I'm not sure what the expression could mean on Lex. "Lovely weather, isn't it?" This much, at least, is true. In classic defiance of my black mood, the sky has remained pristinely blue all day, only now touched with rosy fingers as night begins to fall. True or not, however, Lex refuses to look my way again. Usually I would be more than happy at his silence, but in this one case I find it incredibly annoying. Quickly running out of my usually boundless patience, I resort to a far less than honourable tactic. "I've been sleeping with your wife." True to form, Lex lunges towards me with a snarl, and stops only as he sees the grin on my face. This, of course, was lie as well. I wouldn't have touched Tai-San if she'd wanted me to, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual. She's not exactly my type.If he had half a brain to go with his deceit and guile, Lex might be, but I'd rather sleep with Tai-San than tell him that.

"What do you want, Mega?" It's hardly a term of endearment, but at least I've got his attention now. There are lists... no, volumes I could recite to him now, but I decide in the end that brevity is best when dealing with the simple-minded.

"Just an answer," I say finally, and hope that's short enough for him to cope with.

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?" He snaps at me, and I smirk down at him, amused inwardly by an image of an ill-trained dog snapping at my knees.

"Because I deserve to know the answer, I think." I'm thinking, but I can't come up with anything I have left to offer him or threaten him with. I can't tease him with information about Tai-San, because I've already closed that avenue in order to get myself out of the Mallrats' prison. I can't threaten to hurt him, or any of his friends, because- and I realise this with the deepest chagrin and a sudden wave of fear- I have no real power anymore. Nothing left but my mind, and my body. Like before I joined the Technos.

"You deserve an early grave," he shoots back at me, and I have to focus not to wince. He might be stupid and underhanded, but damned if Lex doesn't know how to be properly intimidating when he needs to be. Once upon a time, I might've tried to recruit him to the Technos' cause, but I don't have that anymore. Besides, I recall, he hasn't proved himself to be the most trustworthy of allies. As I had suspected, he doesn't go for the righteous angle, and I find myself forced to grasp for straws.

"You know, I did save your-" I cut myself off, mid-sentence. The smirk has moved from my face to his, and I realise with some shame that I've already used this against him. I think I must be getting sloppy in my old age. "Fine," I growl, allowing him to see my annoyance. "Look, all I want to know is where we're going. That's it. I think I deserve at least that much." I can practically see the rusty gears turning as he wonders about how best to hold this over my head. I don't like putting myself in his hands like this, but it can't be helped. I have to know where I'm going.

"All right. Fine." He starts grinning, and I'm aware of a feeling of vague unease. A grin on Lex, I've learned, is usually a sign of trouble, and rarely a sign of friendship. "But you're not gonna like the answer." There's a pause, like he's waiting for me to insist he speaks, or something. I'm not likely to give him more of a hold on me than I have to, however, and so I only wait. "We're going to find the island where you're keeping all of our friends you Technos kidnapped." He was right, I don't like that answer. Not one bit. I'm not going to let him know that, however, as Lex already has more than enough power over me.

"Thank you," I tell him through a forced smile, and walk away. On a boat this size, it takes me only a few minutes to find Jay. Thankfully, he's alone, back in the room where I had woken up. I slip inside and shut the door behind me as quietly as I can. He knows I'm here, of that I'm sure, but my intention wasn't to hide myself from him. I'm feeling a little slighted by his refusal to tell me our destination, and am hoping to catch him off guard.

"Hello, Mega," he greets, glancing up at me from his book for only a moment. Level-headed bastard, I think using words that have likely been used against myself more than once. I hate it when I'm more upset than the people around me. It's terrifying. Now, however, I'm more or less in control of myself.

"Why did you save me?" I let some emotion seep into my voice. Some anger, some hurt, and a bit of fear that I hadn't entirely intended to include. "Do you realise the Technos hadn't had contact with the Island in nearly a month? For all we know, the prisoners took over. If you take me there, and the prisoners are loose, I'm going to be ripped to pieces!" Probably Ram as well, now that I think about it, but I don't have the time nor the inclination to worry about his well-being. The thought occurs that they might harbour similar animosity towards Jay, and that, however, does give me an unpleasant fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I hadn't thought of that," he tells me with a frown. Ah, so he did know where we were going. The thought makes me a little bitter, and I try to ignore it. "I just thought we'd go, and we'd rescue them, and that'd be the end of it." I know there's a brilliant tactitian somewhere inside Jay, it's just that I can't see it in him right now. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Even if they have taken over, lots of them were friends of the Mallrats, were former Mallrats. They'll listen to the Mallrats."

"And if they don't?"

"They will." His faith in the goodness of others never ceases to amaze and annoy me. "Trust me."

"Oh, nevermind," I snap irritably, wondering at his distressed expression. Certainly he isn't worried for my sake. I know he must have saved me for some specific reason, him hiding our destination from me only supports that. I'm fairly certain he isn't worried for Ram, since those two have long since ceased to have, or at least show, any emotion but disappointment and loathing for one another. Jay couldn't conceiveably be worried about himself, since he's the hero of his own epic poem, and heroes never fear for themselves. That leaves someone on the Island... ah, there it is. The answer was right there in front of me the entire time. "Ah, of course. Ved." The look on his face, of barely-concealed hurt, affirms my suspicions. "You're wondering if Ved is on the Island."

"You know." It's an accusation, almost, cold and hard. He stands, and stares down at me with pain and anger in his eyes. I turn away from him, unable to meet his gaze. Anyone else, and I could laugh, could hold it over his head and make him beg to know the truth, but I've seen too much pain in Jay's lovely eyes. Most of it caused by my actions.

"Unless something has happened to him since we lost contact, he's there." I'm not quite prepared to risk another glance at him, scared as I am of his anger. When he speaks, I am grateful for the apparent renewal of his usual relative calm.

"What kind of place is it? What are they doing to Ved there?" The words are angry, but the tone is frighteningly smooth. I'm worried, for the first time, that he might be angry enough to lash out at me, and I don't know what to do about it. I can't defend myself against him.

"It's only a prison. There isn't anything unusual about it." I can hear him come closer, his boots ringing loud against the ground, and I tense up. This is it, I think, he's going to hit me. Kick me. Something. A few seconds and... nothing.

"Are you sure?" He's much nearer now, much quieter. Angrier, I think. I'm definitely trembling a little.

"Yes, of course I'm sure." I wouldn't dare to lie to him now. Not without an army behind me. Not when it's just me and him and an entire boatload of his friends and allies, all of whom are my sworn enemies. Except Slade, but even he can't be much help now, not with Jay standing so close I can feel his warmth.

"Mega, look at me." His hand flashes towards me, and for a moment I think he's going to strangle me. But no, he grips my chin in strong, soft fingers and yanks my head his way. If it had been less rough it might have been a tender gesture, a lover's gesture... but no, now is not the time, if there ever is one. I meet his eyes all too unwillingly, afraid that my own might prove windows into my soul. Assuming I still have one. "Now tell me again. Is Ved there? Is he alive?"

"Yes." It comes out as a dry whisper, and I lick my lips nervously. I don't know if I'd rather kiss him or kick him in the shin and run away. I do neither. "As far as I know," I amend, and see a flash of annoyance cross his face. It's not the absolute he wants, but I can't give him absolutes. His hand on my jaw tenses and I shut my eyes, preparing for a blow.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He might be mocking me, but I think it might actually be intended as a reassurance. His voice is softer, certainly, and on Jay that usually means he's calm, but as I told him, I can't deal in absolutes. The world has too many variables. For instance, Jay still hasn't let go of me. This is worrying. "Why are you so afraid of me?" Looks like I'm not as good at keeping myself under control as I had thought. I begin to spin a lie inside my head, a story half-constructed before I realise that it was musing, a rhetorical question, that he hadn't wanted an answer. I can't read him right now. The boat is eerily quiet except for the hushing of waves and someone's muffled arguing. The position of his hand shifts a little and something warm comes to rest across my lips. The gentle touch hits me like a lash. Fearful of being too hopeful, I open my eyes, and am only a little disappointed that it's only a fingertip. But still, this is Jay touching me, Jay looking at me with something other than anger, something other than pity in his eyes. I can't stop shaking. His expression is one I've seen on him too often, a look like a lost puppy that's been kicked around a few too many times. I hate it on him, because it makes me hurt for him, and because I never know what he's thinking about when he wears it. "Just promise me you're telling the truth about Ved, and I'll leave you alone." I don't really want to be left alone, not really. Contrary to popular opinion, I do like being around other people, it's just that I usually prefer to watch rather than interact directly. Direct interactions almost always bring awkwardness and pain. This, for instance, is a very direct interaction. "Mega?" His hand drops back down to his side, and though I can feel a dull ache in my jaw that might materialise into bruises later, I miss his touch already.

"Barring extenuating circumstances," I begin as he turns away from me, hoping to keep him here a while longer, "Ved should be alive and well." His eyes meet mine again, and the hope in them is too much for me to hold his gaze steadily.

"And he's on the Island?" He grabs my arm, tugs none too gently, like I'm the one who's threatening to leave. I try to imagine Slade being this worried for my sake, but can't quite do it. Jay is unmatched in the sheer force of his dedication to those he loves. I feel an inappropriate flash of envy for Ved.

"That's where he was sent," I affirm as best as I can, glancing up at Jay. He opens his mouth and I cut him off, already knowing what his question will be. "I'm as sure as I can be, Jay. Don't force me to give you answers I don't have." The pressure on my arm lifts, and I'm not sure if I'm glad or not.

"Thank you." There seems to be no end to the number of surprises Jay has for me. He's smiling at me now like we're anything but enemies, and in his eyes... sheer relief, glowing gratitude. I could never comfortably wear my emotions on my sleeve like that.

"For what?" For imprisoning his brother in the first place? Certainly not. Then what? I can't think of anything I've done for him that he would view as being towards his benefit, or more accurately the benefit of his friends.

"For being honest with me." I can't take the full force of his two hundred-watt smile straight on. He's too bright, too blinding, too pure. He melts my defences and there's nothing I can do about it. He's like my sun, and without realising it, I've let my earth revolve around him, let him become the purpose behind so many of my actions.

"I have nothing left to lose through being honest, and whatever I have left to lose by lying. It's in my best interest," I say to convince myself as much as to convince him. It doesn't work on either of us. He smiles at me with one of his unfathomable looks, then walks past me, towards the door. I turn to watch him go, wanting to reach out to him so badly. "Jay," I call after him before I really know what I want to say, and am a little surprised when he actually stops and looks back at me over his shoulder. "Can we be anything like friends again?" I hate to open myself to him like this, but I've managed to leave myself completely vulnerable to him without thinking about it. Friendship is, of course, not what I really want with Jay, but it's probably the best I can hope for.

"Start learning tell the truth," he suggests with an infuriating grin, "and I'll think about it."


End file.
